“Don’t look at the camera, Angie,” said the professor’s voice, from off screen. “Concentrate on the board, please. We need to get this started.”
“Exactly!” said Angie. “The sooner we get started, the sooner we can call it a day and go to the pub!”
Elspeth was tall and slender and very blonde. “I would like to believe,” she said artlessly. “Really, I would! But I’ve been to graveyards, and old houses and haunted pubs, and never experienced anything. It would be terribly thrilling, though, wouldn’t it? If something really did happen here?”
“You’d run a mile,” said Angie. “You can’t even cope with spiders in the bath.”
“Probably,” Elspeth conceded. “But! I would still like to see . . . something . . .”
Dominic was a large, rugby-playing type, who turned out to be surprisingly quiet and thoughtful. He was broad and wide, with skin so black it had blue highlights. “I am determined to keep an open mind,” he said firmly. “We can’t expect to get anything out of this if we go into it with our minds closed to new experiences. We have to hold ourselves open to . . . possibilities. Isn’t that right, Professor?”
“This is your experiment,” said the professor, off-camera. “I’m only here to record what happens.”
“Yeah; right.” That was the final student, Martin. Tall and lean and openly sardonic. “How can it be our experiment when you’ve arranged everything? None of us are here because we want to be. You pressured us into this. What did he promise the rest of you, guaranteed better grades? Oh, you don’t have to say anything. I freely admit I’m here because my grades are in the toilet, and my only hope to stay on the course is with the professor’s help and support. So if he wants us to play parlour games, while he films it, I can live with that. As long as I get to keep my clothes on . . . But you had better hold up your end of the bargain, Professor.”
“I am sure we’ll all get something useful out of this,” said the professor’s voice. “Please place the glass provided on the Ouija board, upside down, then each of you should place a forefinger on the glass.”
With a certain amount of giggling, and embarrassed glances at each other, the four students did as they were told. A glass was ceremoniously turned upside down and placed in the centre of the board, inside the circle of letters, in easy reach of the Yes and No positions. One by one, they all placed a finger on the upturned glass, doing their best to keep their faces suitably solemn.
“All right,” said Martin. “What do we do now?”
“I think we’re supposed to ask it things, aren’t we?” said Elspeth. “I saw this film once . . .”
“I am not saying, Is there anybody there?” said Dominic. “There are limits.”
“Now relax, and let our unconscious minds take over,” said Angie. “No doubt we’ll find ourselves spelling out all kinds of revealing thoughts and wishes . . .”
“Why isn’t the glass moving?” said Elspeth.
“Because you’re not taking it seriously,” said the professor’s voice. “Stop talking. Concentrate your thoughts on the glass. Feel the atmosphere. Just . . . let things happen.”
All four students settled themselves as comfortably as they could and stared fixedly at the upturned glass. And slowly, almost without realising it, their bodies relaxed. Their breathing became synchronised. They were all concentrating on the same thing, not even thinking about the professor and his camera any more. For a long moment, nothing happened. And then Angie snatched her finger back from the glass. The tension of the moment was immediately broken, and everyone let out their breath in a rush. They sat back from the board, taking their fingers off the glass, breathing heavily. Elspeth glared at Angie.
“What did you do that for? I really felt we were achieving . . . something!”
Angie looked apologetically off screen. “Sorry, Professor. I had this . . . feeling, that something bad was about to happen.”
“Please take this seriously, everyone,” said the professor’s voice. “Fingers back on the glass, and concentrate.”
Four arms stretched across the coffee table, and four fingers pressed down on the upturned glass. Martin was looking openly contemptuous now. Elspeth shuddered suddenly.
“Hey! Did everyone else feel that?”
“Feel what?” asked Dominic.
“Like . . . a sudden cold breeze,” said Elspeth, looking around uncertainly.
“Rubbish,” said Martin.
“I did feel it!” said Elspeth. “Look; I’ve got goose pimples!”
“I didn’t feel anything,” said Angie. “And I’m right next to you.”
“What are you all feeling?” said the professor’s voice. “I need you to articulate your feelings, for the record. What is going through your minds, right now?”
“I’m feeling completely ridiculous,” said Martin. “And I’m starting to wonder if any grade is enough to justify this.”
“It feels like . . . someone’s watching us,” said Elspeth. “And no, I don’t mean the camera. It feels like there’s someone else here, in the room with us . . .”
All four students looked round the room, not taking their fingertips off the glass. Elspeth looked spooked. Angie and Dominic looked impatient. Martin seemed increasingly angry.
“There’s no-one here but us idiots,” he said firmly. “I don’t feel any dread presence, and I didn’t feel any breeze. Can we please get on with this, and get it over and done with, before I die of terminal shame?”
“I guess we do have to start with the traditional question, after all,” said Dominic. “Come on; I’ll start the ball rolling. Is there anybody there . . . ?”
And all of them were shocked silent as the upturned glass immediately began racing round and round the wooden board, moving so fast the students had to struggle to keep their fingers on it. The glass was moving so quickly, they couldn’t even make out what it was trying to spell. It shot back and forth, all over the board, then went round and round in circles, dragging the students’ arms after it.
“Martin!” said Dominic, so angry he could hardly speak. “This is you, isn’t it?”
“How could I be doing this?” Martin protested. His face was very pale. “Look at how fast the bloody thing’s moving!”
“No-one is to take their fingers off the glass,” the professor said urgently.
“I can’t!” said Elspeth, her voice rising. “I’m trying to let go, and I can’t! It’s stuck!”
The glass jerked viciously this way and that across the wooden board, in swift, angry movements. Angie was crying quietly. Dominic was struggling to get his feet under him, so he could get up from the table, but the glass jerked his hand back and forth so rapidly he couldn’t get his balance. Elspeth looked quickly around her, as though catching sight of something out of the corner of her eye. Martin looked shocked. All four students were open-mouthed and wide-eyed at what was happening right in front of them.
“Professor?” said Martin. “Are you getting this? I’m not doing this; I swear I’m not doing any of this!”
“What’s the glass doing?” said Angie. “Why isn’t it spelling anything? How are we supposed to . . . communicate, like this?”
“Something’s here in the room with us!” Elspeth said loudly. “I can feel it, staring over my shoulder!”
“There’s no-one here but us!” said Dominic. “Everyone, take your finger off the glass!”
The glass exploded—shattered, and blew apart. All four students cried out in shock and pain as they were hit by flying glass splinters. They recoiled from the board and the table, snatching their freed hands back. No-one was badly hurt, only a few scratches; but there were bits of broken glass all over the table and all over their clothes. The students brushed the glass fragments away with almost hysterical speed. They looked at each other, breathing hard. All the good humour and scepticism were gone, slapped right out of them. Something had definitely happened even if they weren’t sure what.
Strange lights flared
suddenly, all around them. Great blasts of vivid colour, come and gone in a moment. The air shimmered, like a heat haze. Ripples moved slowly across the carpet, spreading out from the coffee table like waves on the surface of a disturbed pond. The students cried out and huddled together. Loud, knocking noises sounded in the walls and the ceiling, moving round and round the room as though chasing each other. As though something were banging on the outside of the world, trying to get in. The wooden Ouija board suddenly rose from the table, shooting up through the air till it slammed flat against the ceiling overhead. It clung there, entirely unsupported. The coffee table jumped and shuddered, rocking back and forth on its spindly legs. Elspeth pulled away from the others, and looked wildly about her.
“There’s someone else in this room! Someone else is here with us!”
Angie burst into tears. She turned to Dominic, who put a protective arm around her and glared defiantly about the room. Martin was on his feet, his hands clenched into fists, ready to lash out at anything. Elspeth looked fiercely off-camera, at the professor.
“We’ve got to get out of here! We can’t stay here!”
“No-one is to leave!” said the professor’s voice. He was trying hard to sound like someone still in control.
“Go to Hell!” snarled Martin. “This isn’t what we signed up for!”
“If anyone leaves, they can forget about any help with their course work, or their grades,” said the professor’s voice. “This is important work we’re doing . . .”
“Stuff your help!” said Dominic. “Get out from behind that camera and do something! This isn’t your experiment any more!”
The coffee table stopped moving. The flaring lights disappeared, and the loud, knocking noises broke off. Everything was still and quiet in the lounge. The four students fell silent, looking around them with wide, shocked eyes. The Ouija board, pressed against the ceiling, dropped back down, hitting the coffee table with a dull, flat sound. Everyone jumped. And then, all four students slowly relaxed, bit by bit, as the room remained still and peaceful, the accumulated tensions seeping slowly out of them.
“Is that it?” Angie said tremulously. “Is it over now?”
She realised Dominic still had his arm around her and moved away from him. He quickly lowered his arm and stepped back. Martin unclenched his fists, scowling about him for any sign the phenomena might be about to start up again. The professor started to say something; and then his voice broke off as all four students suddenly sat down hard, their bodies slumping bonelessly, until they were all sitting on the carpet around the coffee table. Their faces were horribly slack: empty of all expression, or awareness. Their mouths dropped open, and their unblinking eyes saw nothing at all. They sat still, barely breathing, completely silent, all trace of personality gone from their faces. The professor called out to them, saying their names increasingly urgently; but none of them responded. He came out from behind the camera at last, appearing on the screen for the first time. He shook the students by the shoulder and shouted into their empty faces, his voice rising hysterically as he realised there was no-one left to hear him.
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
Professor Volke buried his face in his hands. Melody stopped the recording, and the television screen went blank. Volke breathed deeply a few times, then raised his head to look desperately at JC.
“Do you understand what happened here? Nothing like that was supposed to happen! It was a stupid séance, a parlour game! You’ve got to help me wake them up!”
“They’re not asleep,” said Happy. “They’re gone.”
“Are you sure?” said JC.
“Their heads are empty,” said Happy. “I’m not picking up a single thought or impulse, on the conscious or unconscious level. Everything they were has been ripped right out of them. Nobody’s home.”
Melody looked up from her equipment. She’d finished setting up her equipment in its usual semi-circular formation, while everyone else was concentrating on the television. Her fingers darted from one keyboard to the next, bringing everything on-line. Monitor screens glowed brightly, information flowing in endless rows across her various displays.
“This room is a good twenty degrees colder than it should be,” she said calmly. “And I’m getting some really weird electromagnetic readings.”
“What sort of weird?” said JC.
“Like you’d understand even if I did explain it to you,” said Melody. “All you need to know is, they are way off the scale. Happy was right; this room is soaked with information, old and new. And . . . I’m getting signs of something that might be an interdimensional doorway.”
“What?” said the professor. “What are you talking about?”
“There are places in the world where the hard and certain can become soft and malleable,” JC said carefully. “Places where different worlds, or dimensions, can rub up against each other; and the walls of reality get worn thin. Sometimes, local operating conditions . . . break down, overwhelmed and replaced by the natural laws of other dimensions. And then you get an opening, a door between realities. Between here, and Somewhere Else. And then . . . Something Else can break through, from There into Here. This is rarely a good thing.”
“You really expect me to believe such unscientific nonsense?” the professor said angrily. “This isn’t what I called you people for! I need practical help, not . . . pseudo-scientific bullshit!”
“If the doorway opens again, it will make a believer out of you in one hell of a hurry,” said JC. “Happy, take another look at what’s going on inside the students’ heads. Dig deep. See if there’s any trace of them left that we can use to call them home.”
“Sorry, JC,” said Happy. “When I said their heads were empty, I meant completely cleaned out. Nothing left but the autonomous nervous system, to keep the body going. We’re not only talking about their minds; their souls have been snatched, too.”
“What can you tell us about the room, Happy?” said Melody, her gaze darting from one monitor screen to another. “I’m picking up all kinds of readings, but none of them make any sense.”
Happy frowned, concentrating; and then he winced. “This room is supersaturated with information. Layer upon layer, from recent events to the far past. Going back . . . decades. This isn’t the first time something bad has happened here.”
JC looked thoughtfully at the professor, who suddenly didn’t want to meet his gaze. JC walked right up to him, and the professor started to back away, only to find Happy suddenly standing behind him, blocking his way.
“Tell me, Professor Volke,” said JC. “Why choose this particular location for your little psychological experiment? Is this your home? Or perhaps the home of one of your students?”
“Martin leased this house, a few months back,” said the professor, reluctantly. “And when he told me about it, I remembered I’d heard of this address before. I remembered a story . . . of a haunting, or some kind of supernatural disturbance, from years ago. Back in the early eighties, when I was a child. There was a report on the local news about it. Scared the crap out of me at the time. That’s what gave me the idea to hold my séance here. But I checked! I did my research! This house has been quiet for years. Decades . . . No reports of anything out of the ordinary. Nothing since that original story from the eighties.”
“Did you tell your students about any of this?” said JC.
“No,” said the professor. “I didn’t think it necessary. They didn’t need to know. It might have affected their responses and reactions, compromised the experiment. Look! We have to get the students back! Something like this could lay me open to all kinds of lawsuits! Ruin my career!”
“I’m more concerned about helping your students,” said JC.
“What? Oh, yes, of course.” The professor nodded quickly. “Can they be helped?”
“We’ll give it our best shot,” said JC.
He deliberately turned his back on the professor and walked slowly round the lounge, lookin
g at everything. Happy and Melody watched him patiently.
“Okay!” JC said finally. “I think the best thing to do . . . is restart the séance. Recreate the conditions that affected the students. They clearly made contact with Something. Let’s see if it’s still hanging around.”
“That is like jumping in the deep end when you’ve already been told it’s full of sharks,” said Happy. “Rabid sharks, with really big teeth. Séances are always dangerous. It’s like kicking open a door when you’ve no idea who or what might be waiting on the other side.”
“The door’s already open,” said JC. “We’re going to take a quick peek through the opening, hopefully locate our missing students in whatever new place they’ve been taken to, then either persuade or haul them back through the door by main force.”
“And then shut and lock the door,” said Happy.
“Well, obviously,” replied JC.
“Just like that?” said Melody.
“Of course,” JC said mildly. “We are, after all, professionals.”
“What if we have to push the door all the way open, to get to the students; and Something Big and Nasty comes crashing through from the other side?” said Happy.
“Then we deal with it,” said JC.
“I want to go home,” said Happy.
“Race you to the Land Rover,” said Melody.
“Oh ye of little faith,” said JC.
“Wait; wait just a minute,” said the professor. “Are you saying this . . . rescue, could be dangerous? To us?”
“Grow a pair, Prof,” said JC.
“I think I have a right to . . .”
“No you don’t,” said JC, his voice suddenly very cold. “Not when this is all your fault. So sit down at the coffee table and keep quiet, like a good little professor.”
He glared at the professor until he sat down, very reluctantly, beside the coffee table, and JC sat down with him, squeezing in among the motionless students. JC then glared at Happy until he also came over and sat down with them. The professor stuck both his hands in his lap and hunched in his shoulders, so he wouldn’t have to touch Elspeth and Dominic, sitting very still on either side of him. JC looked over at Melody; and she smiled briefly.